I can say with a fair amount of certainty that less than 20 Duke students were live witnesses to the school's first football win in nearly two years. I wouldn't be surprised if the The Chronicle's two writers and photographer were the only three Dukies to travel to Evanston, Ill. this weekend.
I was one of them.
Some might say that Northwestern wasn't the place to celebrate the Blue Devils' victory. And by some, I mean my liquored-up classmates who tore down the goal posts in Wallace Wade, carried them to the Main West quad and, in what must have seemed like a booze-fueled stroke of genius, tried to resurrect the uprights to frame the Chapel.
Hoisting 40 feet of metal sure does sound like a fun Saturday evening, but, if given the choice, I would still opt to be at Ryan Field.
Hypothetical situation: say Duke beats North Carolina in Cameron this winter. You have two options. Attend a bonfire with every kid this side of Bostock, or go to the basketball team's party and hang out with Gerald Henderson, the coolest cat this side of Grant Hill. You would pick G and Co. every time, right?
This was my predicament Saturday night. Except, of course, I didn't really have a choice, and I wasn't invited to the after-party. I was, however, a guest at the celebration that was Duke's postgame press conference-such a rager that I'm surprised ALE didn't show.
The hosts? Head coach Ted Roof, quarterback Thaddeus Lewis, defensive end Patrick Bailey, linebacker Vincent Rey and wide receiver Jomar Wright. The guest list? Three reporters, including yours truly. The interview room was wide-open, unlike a typical section party; the conversation was quiet and civil, unlike Tailgate. The Busch Light wasn't necessary-everyone in the room was already drunk with joy.
And they had plenty of reasons to rejoice. Actually, on second thought, maybe they had only one. For the first time in 728 days, they had scored more points than another university's varsity football team. (Speaking of numbers, a hearty mea culpa for my last column, in which I said the team hadn't won in 742 days. I added instead of subtracted. But in my defense, the exact number becomes moot after 500 days.)
But that one reason, the 20-14 triumph, was reason enough. Reporters aren't supposed to root for teams or exhibit emotion at games-something about journalistic ethics. Sitting two feet away in a semi-circle with Roof and his team's best players, though, it was hard not to feel happy for the Blue Devils.
There was Roof-immaculately dressed in a dark brown suit, monogrammed blue oxford and brown loafers-exhaling literal sighs of relief.
There was Bailey-laughing hard enough to be heard in Durham-unable to breathe when recounting the game's final drive, when his defense made the two best stands of his career.
There was Lewis-the sophomore superstar that doubled as the game's hero-speaking with sentiment rather than clichéd coachspeak, pouring out such pure glee that you couldn't help but shake his hand and congratulate him.
Those deep feelings, the good stuff that words cannot adequately portray, are why we're devoted to sports in the first place. The primal screams and unadulterated bliss shine through during the game, but the epiphany of accomplishment is realized after it. And what the Blue Devils initially experienced barely scrapes the tip of what they will feel when their minds inevitably drift to that nippy evening in Evanston.
When 20 years from now, in the most fleeting of circumstances, Lewis recalls his 15 consecutive completions, and Rey remembers blitzing on the final play, and Roof recollects hugging the players who bought into his vision for Duke Football. When those who witnessed the streak-snapper reminisce about that last play, which inspired those in the press box to stand in anticipation of what they would be writing on deadline.
It's the type of elation that won't fade even when Navy's triple-option offense baffles the Duke defense this weekend or when the Blue Devils fall at Notre Dame later this year. (Or, maybe not.) It's also the type of euphoria that won't become banal if the team wins another game this year, or if the program reaches a bowl game in three years. (Or, maybe not.)
After Appalachian State beat Michigan in the Big House this year, I received an e-mail from a fellow writer who covered the historic upset. "There's a lot to be said for doing something where, on any given day, you might be a part of something people will talk about for 100 years," he wrote. "Sometimes sports delivers something nothing else can."
It's unlikely anyone will still talk about Saturday's win in 100 years, when Central Campus may or may not be renovated. It's unlikely anyone will still talk about Saturday's win even in 50 years, when Greg Paulus may or may not be Duke's basketball coach.
Anyone, that is, but those of us in attendance on one autumnal evening in Evanston, when the Blue Devils did exactly what very few thought they would: win a football game.
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